


Bloodlust

by KayleeAnnJones



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Badass Kuroko Tetsuya, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Dark Kuroko Tetsuya, Gun Violence, Kuroko Tetsuya is Slenderman’s Proxy, Kuroko Tetsuya is a Little Shit, Kuroko Tetsuya-centric, M/M, Murder, Murder Family, Murderer Kuroko Tetsuya, Past Abuse, Serial Killers, With Kuroko’s old family, in the past, read the tags, tetsuya included, the pastas all love each other like brothers, the pastas are a big dysfunctional murder family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:07:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26870386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayleeAnnJones/pseuds/KayleeAnnJones
Summary: When Tetsuya was six, he joined a group of mythological serial killers, already equipped with his own legend, weapon, and a shiny penchant for murder.This changes everything and nothing, as secrets are revealed and Tetsuya is forced even deeper into the grave he’d dug himself into so early on in life.
Relationships: Akashi Seijuurou & Kuroko Tetsuya, Akashi Seijuurou/Kuroko Tetsuya, Generation of Miracles & Kuroko Tetsuya, Generation of Miracles/Kuroko Tetsuya, Kagami Taiga & Kuroko Tetsuya, Kuroko Tetsuya & Creepypasta, Kuroko Tetsuya & Jeffrey Woods | Jeff the Killer, Kuroko Tetsuya & Seirin High Basketball Team Members, kind of - Relationship
Comments: 5
Kudos: 101





	Bloodlust

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first KNB fanfiction, and though I have written others that aren’t exactly... kid-friendly, please read these warnings:
> 
> 1\. I DO NOT condone this type of behavior. The things written about in this fanfiction include graphic murder, and behavior that is not acceptable in any way. However, I wanted to explore the concept of Kuroko being less ‘normal’ than everyone thought he was. 
> 
> 2\. I DO NOT own Kuroko no Basuke or the Creepypasta stories whatsoever. The writers of their respective stories do.
> 
> 3\. In this story, in the first chapter mostly, there is abuse. Tetsuya is a child while this happens. If that is anyway triggering to you, please do not read. The same goes if you have triggers pertaining to murder, blood, death, etc. Although this is in the Creepypasta universe, and such things like murder are commonly romanticized as a result, I don’t want to be the reason a reader is sent into a panic attack.
> 
> 4\. This is MURDER, people. In this story, Tetsuya is far from sane, even though he thinks he’s a perfectly normal. At some point, the Miracles are bound to discover Tetsuya’s more disturbing... hobbies — outside of basketball — and I will write how I think they will react to one of their closest friends/romantic interest being a internationally-known, supernatural serial killer. 
> 
> Other than those disclaimers, enjoy the story! 
> 
> :)

Tetsuya’s body hurt. 

His small, six-year-old body ached and throbbed with bruises and welts and burns, the pain inescapable even at night, when he was supposed to be sleeping. Even if he was used to being quiet, if only to not draw the attention of his parents, it was difficult muffling his whimpers and cries into his pillow at night when his lumpy mattress pressed roughly into his injuries.

The only thing that accompanied him on those nights was his pain and his rage, barely simmering underneath the surface, bubbling beneath his skin.

Outwardly, Tetsuya was blank. A blank slate, entirely neutral, as if he doesn’t have the capability to feel emotion at all. But he does. He feels fear and horror when his father raises his hand, happy when there were eggs in the fridge for him to eat, even if it was only a measly meal (it was the only food he  could  make), but most of all, he feels  wrath .

He wanted to scream, and rage, and  _ hurt _ _,_ but he couldn’t. Not yet. He hadn’t snapped just yet, but the thin thread holding the heavy weight of his self-control — that kept his fantasies from penetrating reality — was feeble and weak. He relished those thoughts, escaping with them into a world where he doesn’t suffer, another universe where perhaps he lived a good life. This wasn’t that world, though. He didn’t live in his fantasies, unfortunately.

In this world, his parents despised him, forgot about him more than a parent should. Hurt him. Maybe they saw what he hid behind his eyes, perhaps they could see the fantasies playing out about the gruesome things he’d like to do to people around him. Maybe they were scared of him.

But that didn’t matter. All that did was that he was getting closer, inching the fine line that separated him from human and murderer, even at only six.

——

  
There it was. Again.

Tetsuya stared at the figure lingering on the edge of the forest, only a few yards away from his kitchen’s window. It was tall, faceless, with only slight shadows to indicate any sort of facial structure underneath paper white flesh. It lurked in the darkness of the trees, the shadows twitching out of their previous shapes and coalescing into writhing tendrils, all curling and stretching slightly towards Tetsuya, like they wanted to reach out to grab him. The most noticeable aspect was the being’s crisp, black suit, the white of its undershirt and its face sticking out at him.

Whenever he looked at the tall figure, a buzzing static invaded the corners of his vision, and he would always have a nosebleed after. However, recently, the static was more of a constant buzz rather than an annoying haze, and the nosebleeds were reduced to being solved by a few sniffles. The closer the black, shadow-like tentacles crept, Tetsuya noticed, over time the symptoms of the mysterious symptoms lessened. Was he getting used to them?

The tall, suit-clad figure was staring right at him, and Tetsuya leaned forward in interest. He felt frozen, but not in fear; whenever he blinked, or moved his eyes elsewhere, it disappeared. It’s been like this for  weeks . He just wanted to see what it wanted.

”Tetsuya!” His father barked.

Tetsuya flinched, blinking. Reluctantly, he turned towards his father, still leaning against the window. His father’s hand shot out from his side, reaching towards him, and Tetsuya felt a bolt of fear ripple down his spine, immediately pressing himself further against the window. His father snatched his collar, yanking Tetsuya forward roughly, putting the young boy face-to-face with the man’s rancid breath and crazed eyes. 

Tetsuya’s eyes were dark, lifeless — previously alight with curiosity at the appearance of the tall figure he regarded as his friend — and he wanted nothing more than to back away. His father usually wasn’t this physical; on most days he was commonly found slumped on the couch, drunk, lounging in his own sweat unless someone pulled the hair-trigger that was his anger. Tetsuya wasn’t bothered by him unless his father sought him out, which wasn’t common. But to see him so bothered raised red flags in Tetsuya’s mind, and he immediately wanted to escape into his safe place, his room. 

“What the fuck was that, boy? That  thing ?” His fathers breath wafted into Tetsuya’s face, spit spraying, and Tetsuya recoiled, though he kept his face neutral. His heart began beating faster. “ _ Well _ ?” 

Did he see the figure too?

Tetsuya didn’t answer for a while, going over the words in his head, only speaking once the grip on his small shoulders became painful, and his face twisted into a tiny wince. 

“...I don’t know,” he replied, quietly. 

His father pushed him back with excessive force, and Tetsuya went tumbling to the kitchen floor. The back of his head bounced against the tile, and Tetsuya silently curled up on the floor, reaching to the back of his head to cradle the forming lump. Black spots assaulted his vision, and tears stung his eyes. He didn’t let them fall.

“Liar,” his father spat, like even calling Tetsuya an insult was akin to dirt in his mouth for the sheer reason it was directed at  him . His father cast glances at the window Tetsuya previously stood at, scoffing. It seemed he was dismissing the being as a figment of his imagination, a hallucination. But Tetsuya thought it was far too real, the static and nosebleeds all too  physical  to be a fantasy. 

His father barely regarded his position on the floor. 

“I don’t want to see you ‘til tomorrow, we have important company staying here overnight after a get together,” he said, and Tetsuya nodded, used to the routine. His father was a high-ranking police officer in their town, and as a result sometimes had his friends over from neighboring areas to improve relations between the districts. “I’ll be locking your door from the outside, so don’t bother trying anything.”

Tetsuya nodded, and he heard the heavy footsteps recede as his father retreated to the couch. He lifted his sluggish body from the cold floor — half tempted to press into it to relish in the feeling of the cool surface on his skin during the scorching summer heat — and quietly gathered a water bottle, and tiny, unnoticeable portions of food to hold him over. It was an expertise gained over the years of having to fend for himself and scavenge to survive without punishment. 

Before leaving the kitchen, Tetsuya threw a passing glance at the window, outside into the lawn and the woods, and the tall being was gone. He felt almost disappointed by the disappearance. 

Finally, Tetsuya ran up the stairs, and he quietly closed the door to his small room behind him. An hour later, he heard the lock click into place, his father undoubtedly locking him inside, and prepared himself for a long day, or more, depending on whether or not his father remembered he was locked in there. 

The thread grew thinner. 

———

His mother was just as bad, if not worse. 

When his father got drunk — when his alcoholic tendencies began puppeteering his actions — he hurt Tetsuya; he raised his meaty,  strong  hands above his head, raining them down upon Tetsuya like he was a god delivering judgment. He continued, even as Tetsuya cried and yelped, skinny arms shielding his head from the damage,  hitting  and  punching  even as Tetsuya begged him to stop. That was before Tetsuya learned his father  thrived  on the terrified squeaks and cries, and stopped them, he prevented his feelings from being expressed. 

But his mother...

She just  stood there . She didn’t  _ do  _ anything, just stood there and watched like a frozen vulture, staring as another predator attacked her prey. Most of the time, he saw her out of the corner of his eyes, standing in the shadows, watching with clouded blue eyes, so so similar to his. A hand held over her mouth either in horror or in an effort to conceal her laughter, because laughing is what it feels like she’s doing. To Tetsuya, it feels like she is standing in that shadowed corner, watching him suffer, and laughing at his  weakness . 

And no, she didn’t hurt him. In fact, she was one of the few who remembered his existence. She’d knock on the door after those horrible moments and apologize with a shaky voice, listing all the reasons why she didn’t help him.  Why don’t you unlock the door now, then?  Tetsuya wanted to scream.  Why don’t you help me now? 

Like always, Tetsuya was silent and blank. He spent his days blissfully alone when he could help it, a book in his hands and a small smile on his lips. He liked being alone — it was far better than the alternative — but it would’ve been nice to have a friend. 

To be noticed by a woman who just stood there and  watched was a mockery. Something he so very desired — to be noticed, for once. To be treated with kindness rather than screams whenever he startled somebody — reduced to a weapon against himself. He  hated  it. 

When he wasn’t sentenced to his room, she’d tentatively touch him. An arm over his shoulder, a slender hand delivering soft rubs, motherly affection at its finest. But every single time, Tetsuya wanted nothing more than to puke, shove her hand away, because those were the hands that didn’t unlock his door, that clutched her own arms when she saw her  son  getting beaten and did  nothing . The same hands that tucked blankets over his father as if he was the one hurting, that fluffed pillows behind his head, and cooked his father meals and not him, even if she cried as she laid out a plate for his father and not Tetsuya.

Silent as a wooden doll, she attended to his father and his drunken rants,  agreeing with him  as he talked about how  ungrateful  Tetsuya was, how he was teaching Tetsuya how to be a man, how his father did the same to him at Tetsuya’s age. She’d laugh and add her own comments, and Tetsuya would simmer, boiling in his own hurt and rage.

This was no better than striking him, Tetsuya thought, at least then his mother’s feelings about him would have been clear. 

———

Things had only devolved from there. 

From that night onwards, his mind spiraled and more strange occurrences began happening, not unwelcome but surprising all the same. Most nights, he dreamt of nothing, an empty black expanse his only surroundings as he drifted. But things had changed, again. 

Now, that static was present in his dreams. It buzzed in his ears as images and ideas were pushed into his mind, small nudges in several directions at once. Graphic images of his father’s mutilated body assaulted his sleeping mind, and instances where Tetsuya stood over the bloody corpse, holding two long blades in his hands — sometimes a gun — were commonplace. Static would buzz just beyond his reach, and Tetsuya felt sick pleasure in the realistic picture, almost  happy  to see his father suffer the same way he did.

Sometimes the dreams featured his father’s friends as well, the walls and carpets drenched in red. Sometimes, when Tetsuya awoke, he’d forget his father was still alive and breathing. Pure desire for the gruesome scenes he saw in his dreams — he would finally be  free , he thought dreamily — was a constant.

His dreams then began to penetrate reality.

When Tetsuya looked at his father’s face, he’d sometimes see it bruised and bloodied, cuts deep in the flesh even when Tetsuya  knew  the man’s face wasn’t injured the minute before; he’d see flaps of skin flop as his father spoke to him; he’d see blood dripping to the floor. The first time Tetsuya saw it, he flinched. Tetsuya saw hallucinations of his father’s torso when he looked at him, bloody rips in his shirt just the right size and width for a knife to fit through, the flannel not green but a dark red, stained with thick blood. Tetsuya saw his father’s hand at one point almost completely detached from his wrist, the pale hand dangling by a few tendons.

The week after that, Tetsuya began hearing voices. His six-year-old mind couldn’t comprehend where they were coming from, but all they were were barely-noticeable whispers, quiet and sinister. Small nudges, like telling him to grab that knife, those scissors, the gun hanging from his father’s holster. Other times, they were demands, telling him to tie his father to the bed, to stab him over and over and over until no blood was left to drain from his corpse.

 _No. Not yet, _ Tetsuya told the voices, and they sank down from the front of his mind, back to that little buzz of activity whenever they weren’t nudging or demanding.

The tall, faceless figure he’d only seen sparsely over the past few weeks was now overwhelmingly present wherever Tetsuya went.

He’d see it beneath the dim glow of a streetlight on a deserted street corner, it’s expressionless, featureless face staring at him from where he was driving by in the car, he’d see it hovering at the edges of crowds, seemingly no one else able to see it. But most commonly, it lingered at his house. Watching from across the street, from the edge of the forest... whenever Tetsuya looked out a window, it was  always  there.

Tetsuya felt like he was going insane.

———

It took a month before Tetsuya’s thread snapped. 

Soon enough, the ‘ not yet’ s and the ‘ later ’s became less effective, and the desire, the urge to possibly end up somewhere better after the deed was done was too tempting to resist.

He had been hanging on by the last strands. Thin, breakable threads the width of a fishing line, holding the weight of his decisions against towering temptation.

Tetsuya had thought it would’ve been something big that made him snap, like his father going a bit too far one night, or his mother’s excuses triggering more anger than usual. But it wasn’t.

He had been resting in his bed, unable to sleep past the constant activity running through his head, thinking back on the events of the past week, month, year. Tetsuya had simply decided he couldn’t deal with it anymore. It was a passing, flitting thought, barely present past the forefront of memories flashing in front of his eyes, but it rang true.

In that moment, Tetsuya felt an aborted sense of peace, like sinking into the deepest depths of a lake, whereas before he was floating on his back, his body barely skimming the surface of the dark waters. For the first time in a long time, the constant buzz of thoughts stopped, quieted. It was almost disturbing, for that incessant company to suddenly leave him in silence.

Tetsuya sat in his bed in curiosity, scanning his mind for that other presence. There was only the eerie emptiness. Was it surprised he agreed? Was that the only thing it was waiting for, his agreement to it’s ideas?

But that silence was only for a moment. The static and the voices returned, but it was different. Unlike before, when the static overtook his vision at certain points, gave him powerful headaches, this one was... almost calming. The presence of the voices and static gave off a pleased hum of activity. It made Tetsuya feel good that — whatever the voice was — it was pleased with him.

Tetsuya sat up in bed, adrenaline making his heart race. As he stood, snapshots of images flickered across his vision, and he startled, not expecting that. The first image showed the hallway leading to the kitchen, and then the series of images following that acted as if it were a zooming-in camera, the images paused at his kitchen table, where his father left his police duty belt unattended. He brought it home that day to do routine maintenance on the weapons and his firearm, and left it on the table.

Tetsuya followed the familiar path the images showed him, making his way quickly and silently to the kitchen. He avoided stepping on any of their house’s loose, squeaky floorboards easily, used to it by now, until he reached the space right next to the duty belt.

 _The pistol, _ the voice whispered to him. Tetsuya unbuckled the leather holster, and took the heavy, sleek black pistol into his small hands. It was heavier than he expected, and he nearly dropped it before he adjusted his hold.

“Now what do I do?” Tetsuya whispered.

More images flickered across his vision, of him walking into the living room, pistol in hand, to the back of the couch unnoticed. The next few showed him raising the gun to the back of his father’s head. Tetsuya did what the images showed him, the pistol heavy in his palms.

He rounded the back of his family’s brown couch, his father’s attention consumed by the television. For once in his life, Tetsuya thanked his low presence, for if he didn’t have the unnatural ability to stay unnoticed, he surely would have been caught already. His heart slammed against his chest, his breath quickening in anticipation and excitement. So close... and he’d be free.

 _Turn the safety off _ _,_ accompanied by images of where it was located, what it looked like when it was turned off.  _Careful,_ it said, _the recoil can be jolting._

Tetsuya adjusted his stance to match the sent pose, so the recoil of the gun wouldn’t make his aim go awry, thankful for the mysterious help he was receiving. Tetsuya’s breath hitched as he lifted the sleek pistol to the back of his father’s head, nerves making his stomach swim with butterflies. Even at this distance, what if he couldn’t handle the recoil, and missed? What if he failed? Tetsuya shuddered, he couldn’t  imagine  the repercussions if he failed in killing his father.

 _Do not fret, _ the voice soothed. The voice hadn’t ever been so kind, before.  _ Breathe._

Tetsuya calmed himself, breathing, steadying the shake in his hands.

Tetsuya pulled the trigger.

The resulting sound was deafening, blood splattering onto Tetsuya’s face and shirt. Tetsuya’s ears rang as he watched blood splash across the coffee table — some drops even landed on the television — and drip onto the carpet. His father’s corpse slumped on the couch, his brown hair soaked in blood, and Tetsuya watched with fascination as it trickled down the couch, down his father’s chest and neck. Some splashed back onto him, and he felt drops of red trickle down his face, splashes of gruesome color staining his pajama shirt.

His father’s head was akin to an erupted volcano, the entry points dripping the beautiful red like hot lava, skin already paling, skin destroyed and caved in. Tetsuya had never liked the color red so much. It was beautiful.

Tetsuya was as calm and poker-faced as ever, but the moment he pulled the trigger, an indescribable emotion unfurled in his chest, a tension he hadn’t ever realized was there. Sheer content filled his chest and Tetsuya allowed a small smile to tug at the corners of his lips, blue eyes glowing as he stared at the corpse.

“Yami? Tetsuya?” His mother called, and he distantly heard her hurriedly stomping down the stairs. Tetsuya’s heart skipped a beat. “What was that noise? Are you both alright?”

His mother dashed into the room, terrified eyes immediately falling into her husband’s dead body. She let out a ear-splitting scream, falling to her knees — seemingly forgetting or willfully ignoring Tetsuya’s presence — and she cried and wailed in sadness, but Tetsuya didn’t know why. His father hurt them both, yet she still took Yami’s side above her sons, tended to her husband,  cared  more for him than she did Tetsuya. Why was she sad? She should be relieved —  _happy_ — like Tetsuya.

Her eyes finally found Tetsuya, standing ominously behind the corpse, a minuscule smile on his lips, and a smoking gun in his hand. Her eyes trailed his body, watching as blood dripped from his face and hair like stained raindrops, splotches of red across his entire body.

Truly, he must have been a terrifying sight.

She gasped, tears still streaming steadily down her blotched, pale face. Realization dawned on her face, horror transforming her features, before her face just suddenly closed off, her eyes steely. It was such a switch of emotions, it made Tetsuya wary.

 _Will you kill your mother as well? _ The voice inquired.

“I want to,” Tetsuya whispered, feeling that pit of desire again.

 _Bloodlust _ _,_ he thought.

 _Then aim the pistol, just like before, _ the voice gently coached. Another flicker of the correct position to accurately aim a pistol flashed across his eyes, and Tetsuya quickly adjusted his stature. He raised the gun, pointing the barrel at his mother.

He could see her shaking, and she slowly raised her arms — not in defense, but instead she held her hand out, cupping them in front of her like Tetsuya would suddenly have a change of heart and give up his weapon.

“Give—give me the gun, Tetsuya,” she demanded gently, slowly trying to inch her way towards him. With every step she took, Tetsuya took one backwards.

“No.”

“I know you’re scared,”  _ he really wasn’t.  _ “But you need to calm down. Give Mama the gun.”

Tetsuya bristled. He  _ was  _ calm.

He knew that if she got close, it would be over. She would wrench the gun out of his hands, take away his chance. Tetsuya was too desperate to escape and be happy for once to even consider trusting his mother.

Taking a breath, Tetsuya placed a finger on the trigger, trying to aim accurately. It’s different — _better,_ almost — pointing the barrel of the gun towards his mother’s face, where he can see her horror and grief, whereas he couldn’t see his father’s dying expression, see the pain he so desperately wanted to be reversed onto these people.

Seeing the gun a second away from firing, his mother shrieked and suddenly lunged at him, bony fingers stretching towards him in a last-ditch attempt to save her own life. Tetsuya flinched, and pulled the trigger, aiming for her head but in his split second of surprise, he ended up shooting her in the stomach.

His mother screamed and fell to the floor, clutching her stomach and crying out in agony, still trying to crawl her way towards Tetsuya. His lips twitched at the sight. Tetsuya’s eyes were cold, the aura around him practically radiating  death  and  danger  to a degree that his mother cried harder, making use of one of her arms to protect her head.

His eyes glowed, the powder blue shining ominously as he stared down at the crumpled, whining form of his mother. So many moments where their positions were reversed flashed through his mind, and he clenched the gun harder, unwilling to let it go.

Tetsuya felt a surge of pride and power wash over him, as he stared.  _ He  _ was the one looking down at their crippled forms,  _ he  _ had the power in this situation, instead of the reverse. He could get drunk off of this feeling, relish in it until he sucked it dry.

Small, thin arms protecting only a portion of her head wasn’t nearly enough protection in the end, against a gun. Without any further distractions, Tetsuya leveled the barrel of the pistol to his mother’s head, breathed, and pulled the trigger.

With a resounding, echoing boom, his mother’s body crumpled to the floor like a doll whose strings had been cut. Her body, previously in a fetal position on the floor, relaxed and straightened.

More blood splashed on Tetsuya’s body, creating stains on his shirt and face, a puddle of blood sinking into his socks. The silence in the house was a bit startling; after all, there had always been noise, whether it be his father or his friends, or the television, or his mother. The silence was deafening but it was pleasant.

He smiled. He wouldn’t have to worry about his parents interrupting his reading. He wouldn’t have to worry about them at _all_ , anymore.

Tetsuya glanced around him, the corpses of his parents eerily still, and a sense of unadulterated  glee  shot through him like lightning. He was  free , truly free, able to live and laugh without the fear of punishment, free from the suffocating presence of this household. A smile began twitching at the corners of his lips, barely containable, which then stretched into low chuckles, his small shoulders quaking with the force of the laughter.

He couldn’t remember the last time he laughed.

For a few minutes, Tetsuya stood in the center of his living room and quietly giggled. They were low and controlled, and it was the most laughter Tetsuya had ever expressed. He was sure, from an outside perspective, that he looked insane; how couldn’t he? Soaked in the blood of his parents, giggling amongst their corpse.

Tetsuya finally managed to calm himself down, and he let the familiar, comfortable blank mask slip back onto his face, the creases of his rare smile folding back into neutrality. The giddy butterflies dancing in his stomach were still present, though, and Tetsuya hoped they didn’t go away for a while, as it’s not often he felt so...  happy .

Tetsuya startled as an image flickered across his vision, of the area in the garage Tetsuya was forbidden from wandering into: the weapons safe. Obediently, Tetsuya made his way to the garage — stepping over his mother’s body on the way — and stopped in front of the heavy-duty lock, which required a combination to open.

 _7429 _ _,_ with a picture of the correct numbers.  _ You will need a weapon to protect yourself with, other than your father’s pistol._

Tetsuya nodded, and swiftly pressed the numbers, hearing an almost unnoticeable  _click_. He separated the lock from the door, and opened it, gawking at the array of sharp weapons. While his father didn’t have an extensive collection, he had paid handsome amounts of money for the weapons he did have, making sure they were of high quality and functionality.

 _Weapons are a vital part of my job _ _,_ Tetsuya had once heard him drunkenly remark,  _ gotta use em’ to put down dogs who don’t know their place._

Tetsuya’s powder blue eyes briefly passed over the weapons, but only one truly caught his attention. It was almost calling to him, like he would never be satisfied holding any other blade above that one; a twin pair of machetes — one of the most expensive — sheathed in sleek black leather. They were sharp, the dim lighting in their garage shining of the edge of the blade menacingly.

Tetsuya took the blades into his hands, and almost gawked at the warm sensation that rippled from his fingertips where his skin met the handle, all the way down to his toes. He shuddered. He immediately felt a connection to the weapons — his pistol included — and he didn’t like the thought of someone else touching them, or using them. It felt wrong, almost.  
_  
Good choice _ _,_ the voice acknowledged, and Tetsuya almost smiled at the praise, proud of himself.

He tucked the sheathed machetes against his side, the warm pulse of their presence on his waist comforting enough that his shoulders relaxed, the stress somewhat leaving his body. 

He sighed at the feeling, happy. 

He held the gun delicately in his hands, unwilling to put it anywhere else in fear of accidentally making it go off. There was a weight to it, now. He’d killed the two of the worst people imaginable with this gun, two of the most important people, and thinking about wasting random bullets on not-as-important targets felt...  wrong . Like it wasn’t what the gun was meant to be used for.

 _Come outside, near the forest, _ the voice abruptly demanded, and Tetsuya was surprised.  _ I will be waiting for you there._

He blinked, surprised. The person who helped him along, guided him in his desires — no matter how carnal — was just outside?

Feeling anticipation, Tetsuya quickly scurried out of the garage, venturing back into the kitchen and paused in front of the door to the backyard, suddenly nervous. Would the person regret helping him once they saw him, a small six-year-old? Would they even see him? Would their eyes pass over him blankly just like everyone else’s?

Decidedly, after a few moments, Tetsuya opened the door.

_Oh._

It was the figure from the forest. It was the same as ever; it’s faceless, blank expression, sheet white skin, and black suit, but up close, he towered over Tetsuya, his head only coming up to its lower thigh. The way it leaned over him and stared at him should have been creepy, but Tetsuya couldn’t bring himself to be intimidated. After all, this was who helped him save himself, and he couldn’t have done it without its help.

“Hello,” Tetsuya said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

 _“ Yes, it is nice to meet you as well, Tetsuya. I am called Slender Man,”  _ it’s voice echoed inside Tetsuya’s head, and Tetsuya flinched in surprise at the odd sensation. _“_ _ You have done well, for being so young.”_

The edge of his lips twitched upwards, pleased at the praise.

He bowed politely.

“Thank you for the compliment, Slender-san.”

 _“Tell me, child, do you enjoy killing?” _ Slender asked suddenly. Tetsuya pondered for a moment, reminiscing on his feelings, the unrestrained glee at his parents’ deaths, how he felt when he grasped those weapons. He nodded. _“_ _ Then I have an offer for you.”_

Tetsuya's widened in curiosity.

“ _There is a place, far from anyone else, that houses people just like you. Killers, those who are unaccepted by society’s standards. It is a sanctuary, run by myself, where I allow people like you to be free,”_ Slender described. _“_ _ The only condition is that, in return, you do the tasks I give you, and follow me as your leader. Your guardian. You will be granted heightened senses, strength and speed, and given immortality to effectively serve me.”_

_ “However, once you take my hand, withdrawing is impossible. Understand that there will be dire consequences if you attempt. Do you accept?” _

“I do,” Tetsuya accepted, and Slender held his thin, pale hand out for Tetsuya to take. A place where he could be free, unencumbered by the weight of his parents, their abuse, surrounded by people like him... it sounded like paradise. Tetsuya didn’t know a place like that could exist in his bleak world.

The shadowy tendrils were stretching towards him again, more fervent and enthusiastic than he ever saw them when he stared at Slender from his kitchen window. Tetsuya almost smiled. He thought they liked him.

Slender’s hand completely engulfed his, holding it gently.

“ _Good choice,”_ Slender said, and Tetsuya didn’t doubt the fact that the eldritch being would have killed him if he refused. That fact didn’t bother him. After all, that paradise sounded selective, secretive. He wondered absently what the general public would do, if they ever found out.

Slowly, Slender and Tetsuya walked towards the forest, the fog residing within it — not allowing any sort of vision past a few feet — thick and more resembling a dense wall of smoke than anything else. He wondered if Slender summoned it, he couldn’t remember seeing any sort of fog like that before.

Tetsuya felt content as he was led into the fog hand-in-hand with Slender, the shadows curling around them as they vanished into the mist.

A few days following the murder, news stations reported the tragedy of a small family. The gruesome killing of the parents, and the disappearing of their six-year-old son dominated the small towns’ newspapers and channels for days. People mourned their family, the respectable police officer and his dutiful wife, and their innocent son in people’s thoughts before forgetting them altogether.

A few people, however, connected the tragedy with others along the same line. It was possible, they thought, that little Tetsuya had killed his parents himself, and had disappeared into the fog with a being cameras only caught glimpses of. When the information that Yami’s work pistol and two of his machetes had mysteriously gone missing, the rumors only grew.

Slowly, a legend began circulating the internet; of a small killer whose presence is low and had the features of a ghost, with twin machetes and a pistol tucked into his holster.

Authorities, however, suspected a break in, completely unaware of the events that had really happened that fateful night.

——

Slenderman lead him through the thick canopies of the mysterious forest. 

Tetsuya didn’t have a clue where they were going. He never ventured far into the forests whenever he meandered into it in search for an escape, in case he got lost. The familiar anxiety curdled his stomach, but his face remained blank and Slenderman’s long, spindly hand was a comfort against the cold chill of early morning mist.

There was an almost unnatural amount of thick fog surrounding them. Tetsuya was sure if he wasn’t being lead by Slenderman, he would have been lost within seconds. He could barely see two feet in front of him.

Eventually, Tetsuya noticed that the crunch of earth beneath his feet changed from earth to loose gravel and rock, that it was more inclined, and the shadow of a huge, looming home shadowed into view.

It looked like a castle. Huge stone walls, moss and overgrown vines absolutely consumed the exterior, with arching towers that were halfway to toppling over. It was impressive, and even dirty and destroyed with mysterious claw marks and knife slashes etched into the thick stone, it was the most beautiful sight Tetsuya had ever seen.


End file.
